


"No. This way..."

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, mhunter10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian has a migraine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"No. This way..."

"What’s up with you?" Mickey asks, as he comes back from the bathroom to find Ian with his head in his hands and whining quietly to himself.

Ian sighs and taps his temples with his fingers. “I’ve just got this massive headache, and it won’t go away.” He had his eyes closed as he said this.

Mickey tugged a shirt over his head and sat back down next to him on the couch in his room. He looked him over. He had his jeans back on, but his shirt was still somewhere on the floor. “You take anything?” He was trying to keep the worry out of his voice, but he didn’t quite get it right.

Ian nodded but that seemed to hurt his head more. He winced. “Yeah, like a couple hours ago before I came over.”

"So take some more"

"I can’t od on the stuff, Mick!" Ian was getting frustrated. He didn’t mean to snap, but it felt like his skull was splitting in half and pulsating at the same time. His brain felt too big and no amount of rubbing his hands through his hair was helping. "Sorry. It just—"

"Whatever, man. I’d offer you something stronger, but Tony cleaned me out."

"Not really sure getting high would fix a migraine anyway…"

Mickey shrugged and leaned back into the cushion. They were sitting close enough that their knees were touching. Mickey fiddled with the loose thread of his boxers, not sure what to really do to help. Ian leaned forward so his head was hanging between his knees, groaning slightly from the shift in pressure.

Mickey couldn’t hold back a snort. “That can’t be helping…”

Ian shook his head slowly. “Nope.”

Mickey’s not sure why he didn’t think of it sooner, but he decides it can’t hurt to at least put it out there. “Why don’t you lie down?”

And as if that idea hadn’t even crossed Ian’s mind, he turns and looks at Mickey like he just discovered the cure for cancer. His mind wasn’t working right. “That’s a good idea, Mickey.” He starts to lean over with his head away from the other boy, but Mickey puts his hand on his arm and starts to pull him towards him.

"No. This way…" Mickey glances away because Ian is looking at him confused for a moment, but then he understands and lies down the rest of the way with his head on Mickey’s lap; his leg fitting under his neck for support.

Ian sighs contently and looks up at Mickey. His mouth twitches when they lock eyes.

"Don’t even think it, Gallagher." He’s not sure what he doesn’t want Ian to think, but he knows he’s going to do it anyway, and he’s kind of okay with that. As long as he doesn’t say it and ruin everything.

Mickey brings his hand to Ian’s forehead and runs his fingers across it gently, stroking away the tension from his eyebrows. Ian closes his eyes and sort of leans into it. His breathing is slow and his body relaxes into the couch. He can still smell himself on Mickey, but he also smells just him, and his fingers feel nice and soft moving along his hairline. He hums out a contented sigh and he swears he can hear the little smile on Mickey’s face. He doesn’t dare peek, though.

"Now if only the light were off," he said quietly, squeezing his eyes tighter. He felt Mickey’s hand falter, as he no doubt turned to look at the switch just out of reach and mentally hate himself. "It’s fine. This is…good." He assured, reaching up to touch the hand on his head and encouraging it. He opened his eyes and looked up at Mickey. "It’s good." He smiled at him.

Mickey nodded and continued what he was doing before, adding in occasional passes through his hair. He moved his other hand to rest on Ian’s chest, and they would have stayed like that longer if one of his brothers hadn’t stumbled into the house. Ian sat up and pulled his shirt on, and Mickey got up and found some sweats. They stood there looking at each other for a moment, equally exasperated at the stolen moment cut too short.

Mickey lit a cigarette. “How’s your headache?”

"Still there…"

"Want to go to the dugout?"

Ian took the cig from Mickey and took a drag. “Sure.”


End file.
